Silent Night
by quicksilvergold
Summary: The masked man that attacked with the Kyūbi broke free of another's hold, laying down Naruto when his fenced emotions temporarily freed him. (SPOILER ALERT: Obito stopped his attack.)
1. Chapter 1

His mind was a frantic whirl of madness. As he bent the creature erupting from the woman before him — _such a sweet woman_ **but all he felt was hate** — to his will, his own wrecked mind succumbed to the forces of one more powerful than he. His entire right body stung with remembered pain and _hurthurthurt_ , but stronger was the burning in his eyes and that terrible knowing of darkness. The woman screamed — but not in pain, no, she cried for her child, only just separated from herself along with her monster. He couldn't hear it over his own struggle and the voice that was not his own.

"The child, or your wife?" he offered to the man that was too familiar, clutching where his wife's stomach bled. Such a great will shined in his deep blue eyes that he couldn't help his already broken heart fracturing ever more; because a choice was spoken, but not truly given. Deep within his mind he could already feel his body anticipating the murder of the other three in the cavern.

The other man, with his fierceness where he could imagine gentleness, proceeded to battle him for the child immediately according to his wife's prompting. But even that golden man's speed could not overcome the distraction. With every move they made, the creature freed only to find shackles destroyed more of the place that sounded like home. Underneath the binding muzzle his mask effectively made, he pleaded with the golden man to stop him — after all, was it not a teacher's duty to stop his student?

Those who had once been his most precious — he didn't know them anymore, beyond the faintest tint of nostalgia — escaped the distraction he posed to deal with what had been unleashed. The woman was held up when he took the babe once more, ordering her husband to continue, however. He looked down at the squirming infant his arms instinctively cradled and found himself awed by how small it was and yet how it weathered conditions no mere newborn could possibly be expected to face. His body moved on another's orders, but his attention favored his delicate cargo. He felt a determination unfamiliar to his broken mind break through to the surface of his thoughts.

The woman with the fire hair was a destruction fighter, so against the moves of himself while he carried her child, she struggled. But just as her husband, she possessed a fierce will and refused to give up. He felt love well up in his heart for the stranger, and that provided the final push to break his captor's hold, if only momentarily.

In a sudden move that obviously shocked his opponent, he laid the babe on the bed his mother had borne him on. He grasped the edges of his mask and _pulled_. The airflow tasted a little like freedom, but he stuffed the pleasure away and asked the redhead instead: "Kill me. You have to kill me now while you can." He knew his eye was desperate, and his scarring pronounced his frown, but his mind was in a worse state, battling itself and tearing as chunks were shoved aside to make room for commands.

The woman did not hesitate, hardened by war and battle as she was, and he closed his eyes to the feeling of a hand shoved through his to back.

* * *

 **Wow, angsty much? It wasn't even that long! If anyone would like this type of thing, say so, maybe with ideas for what happens next. I'm not even completely sure what inspired this!**


	2. Chapter 2

He had not expected to wake up, but he did. His entire body _ached_ — especially the center, where he was certain he had been pierced — but it was the dull ache of scars and healing. The presence in his mind was overbearing, but not at the forefront — perhaps it was determining what its next commands would be. Either way, he held the controls at the moment, and that soothed the ragged edges of his mind like any good balm might a wound.

He took in the coarse feeling under his body, as well as the gentle give of whatever he lay on, before opening his eyes to seek out the identity of his location. The fiery woman had struck him through, but he possessed no knowledge of what went on after that. His mind shied away from the possibilities of the extent of the destruction whenever he considered what had happened, so there was not much room for speculation, either. He knew that someone had healed him, or at least started the process, but that was all he was willing to consider. As his eyes cracked open, gritty from time spent sleeping, he half expected to find it had all been a dream cooked up by the one who controlled him. That would be a nice eventuality; none of that destruction and loved ones he **hated** would have been real. Unfortunately, unless the Master's Zetsu had decided to imitate a human guard, that eventuality was also highly unlikely.

The give in what he lay on was due to a mattress and the coarseness was the rough blankets wrapped loosely around himself. There were uniform walls (showing he was not still in the cave, despite the use of rock in the walls) enclosing the space on three sides while the other was closed off by strict bars. His mind rebelled at the thought of imprisonment, but that appeared to be what this was. But the Master— he could get them out, could he not? He was powerful. So why had he taken a step back in his mind?

He started breathing heavy and fast, sucking the air in and blowing it out too fast for it to run its course in his body. This could not be happening. He did not _want_ to be imprisoned, mind or body, so why was it one or the other? Why couldn't he win?! His chest heaved under an imagined weight and sharp pains ran through his irritated wound. His eye was wide open, but black dots began to obscure his vision. Outside he faintly heard the clatter of someone rising from a chair, a voice echoing in the room, but that was not important. He wanted— what did he want? Freedom had tasted so sweetly on his tongue but how was he to attain it? Everywhere he turned there was a trap waiting for him; even as a child, expectations had formed him a gilded cage. How could he escape? **He wanted to be free!**

The presence in his mind turned curiously to what he was doing, but did not interfere. When he pushed himself into a tumble off the bed the presence only seemed faintly amused. His ire grew and he knew so much **hate** , but the panic of being imprisoned still controlled his body. Each breath sent pain shooting through his chest, and those came fast and hard. On the floor, he held himself on his elbows and retched what looked like blood, but his vision was narrowed by the numerous black dots so that he could not tell. The curtain of blackness enshrouding his vision could have been death, so heavy was the weight on his body, but his worn mind eagerly accepted the possibility. Death could be freedom, could it not? The Master was not taking his mind or forcing him to heal, so perhaps death would set him free.

Cool hands brushed his brow, the blurry face of the lovely woman with the fire colored hair peered down on him. Death hurt, and so did the thought of leaving the woman he could not remember, but he also rejoiced in her life. He allowed her gentle hands to lay him on his back and simply gazed at her soft face. So fierce before, but now she shed quiet tears as she looked down at him. Her hands wandered to the wound in his chest, making him flinch from expected pain; instead he felt the soothing flow of chakra ease it. He struggled away from her, feeling an acute betrayal. "No!" sounded his gravelly voice. He did not want to be healed! _Death was freedom!_

"Obito," she commanded, determined and fierce once more. His name — was that his name? The Master had never called him by that name — sounded familiar in her voice for all that he could not remember her. "Be still. You are only hurting yourself."

He did not want to disappoint this woman, but the presence in his head struck suddenly in **hatred**. He **hated** this woman as much as he loved her and knew her not; but above all, he wanted _freedom_ , and she was threatening to take it away. Obito struggled even harder to get away from her, a growl building in his throat. But he _was_ dying, and that meant he was weak. Too weak to resist a woman who was obviously at full power, when his own mind was still so tired and his body ached so very much. His mind could fight as viciously as it wanted, but it could not grant his body the power to move. Willpower only goes so far.

Healing hands soothed the pain even as bile (perhaps more blood) rose in his throat. He contemplated letting it pool there and drown his airways, but a push on his back had it spewing out on the ground. His head pounded painfully as his stomach heaved. The wound in his chest throbbed in spite of the chakra mending it. The Master's presence in his mind did not add to nor subtract from the pain, but only laughed. Obito closed his eyes,with furrowed brows and a clenched mouth, in unavoidable defeat.

* * *

Kushina had known something would inevitably go wrong with the birth. The Kyūbi may not have been able to escape by itself, but it was no secret that Konoha's jinchuriki was pregnant. Iwa, still bitter from the Third Shinobi War, was sure to try something. Kushina had _not_ expected exactly what happened, however. She recalled Obito easily, the most cheerful of her husband's students; he had been crushed in a cave-in during a skirmish with Iwa. Kushina may not have been as close to the kids as her husband was, but she had felt some share of grief when Kakashi returned with a Sharingan eye and too much guilt. Seeing the man that took her baby the moment he was from her womb, she could never have guessed that he was Obito. Not when Obito had been such a wonderful child, full of laughter and love. She could never connect that innocent child to the hardened, hateful man that ripped the Kyūbi from her body and threatened her baby. But the truth was plainly there for her to see in his scarred face and single Sharingan eye. The desperation he showed when he took his mask off, though— Kushina did not believe he was acting entirely of his own free will. She was a strong woman, however, and she did not hesitate to pierce his chest when he asked it of her. Even if Obito was being controlled, he was still a threat that needed to be subdued. That said, she did come back with healers after the Kyūbi had been subdued.

Obito's injury was rather severe — she had stabbed all the way through his chest — but he set to recovery well enough. In case he went on another rampage, it was necessary he recover behind bars (at the very least until he woke and could be interrogated), rather than in the comforts of the hospital. Just as well, though, for the hospital was already stock full of those the Kyūbi had injured, ninja and civilian alike. Kushina herself had to recover from the abrupt tearing of the Kyūbi from her form, but she made sure Obito was well taken care of. Minato did not object.

Kushina had been coming to check on Obito when the guard of his cell came frantically yelling for a healer. She witnessed firsthand his pain, and the desperate struggle he waged against her healing hands, against life. It was heartbreaking to watch his eyes closing in defeat, not to death, as one might usually be defeated by, but life. She could not bring herself to understand why he would choose death over life, did not want to accept what could have caused that grim acceptance she had first seen in his countenance when she pierced him through. Kushina was an experienced kunoichi; she was no stranger to pain and torture. But Obito had only been a child at the time of his supposed death, and she could not bear to imagine what must have transpired in the years following. She could not bear those thoughts, so she determinedly ignored his struggle and forced him to live. The rest could come later: the explanations, pleas, and excuses. There was no return from death.

She ignored the tearing in her heart and focused on healing, not allowing a single tear to blur her vision.

* * *

 **Big thank you to Mokushiyami! This probably would not have happened so quickly with that lovely review. (I would PM you, but you were the only reviewer and I was lazy so this is your response. Seriously, thanks for that review!)**

 **Alright, so there was more angst. Possibly partially inspired by the migraine I had while writing it, I'm not entirely sure. I'm still not completely sure where this will end up, but so far it seems to write itself pretty well, so I'll keep going. Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did writing it.**


	3. Chapter 3

His hands were secured to the sides of the bed when he next woke. The room was different, white hospital walls taking the place of his rocky prison, but the bed felt the same with its coarse blankets and gentle give. Light filled the air, pouring in through the window rather than from an electrical device; the feeling of the warm sun startled Obito. The Master never sent him out in the daylight, so the feeling was both foreign and nostalgic. He did not think he had ever appreciated something so little so much. Voices echoed outside somewhere, traveling up to his ears in broken bits and pieces. If serenity could be embodied in one moment, he thought he might call it that one. Everything seemed so peaceful to his broken mind that he could not bring himself to care he had been restrained. But, of course, all that is good must end.

The sound of footsteps echoed closer, and then the door was opening wide enough for two large men to enter, followed by a harried-looking nurse. Obito thought the crooked nose the darker haired man possessed was familiar, and that shade of blond was pretty recognizable; the Master shifted curiously at the back of his head in response to those thoughts, both a comforting presence in unfamiliar territory and a terrible mar on possible freedom. His breath came shorter with the thought of freedom, but the men finished reassuring the nurse and turned to him, a welcome distraction. The darker haired one spoke, "We can't interrogate you in an official capacity because you were injured badly in protecting a Konoha nin, but we also can't just let you wander around without making sure you're not a spy." Unsaid were thoughts of his earlier suicide attempt (Obito still burned at the injustice of not being allowed freedom when it had been so close).

Obito tried to respond, but nary a sound escaped his dry throat. Frustration built in him, enabled by the Master, and he shook his head furiously when speech continued to escape him. Finally, a croak scratched up his windpipe, meeting the silently watching men. (And where was the nurse, who would have helped, surely? But then, this was meant to be an interrogation. [His mind offered images of the torture racks the Master kept, of the screams he had heard some nights, and bucked away frantically.]) "Wh—" Obito managed before the air caught in his throat again. He pushed harder, brow furrowing and face reddening from both the lack of air and anger — and oh, how _angry_ he was, especially with these people who denied him freedom— but then he was not, for the Master had rid him of the energy to feel, as the Master sometimes did when it was important that he act in a controlled manner. "Wh–o a–re y–ou?" he pushed out. The blond-haired man looked impressed with what he was able to manage.

Again, the darker of the two took charge. "Morino Ibiki," he announced with a hand on his chest. (Obito felt a jolt of memory, shattered fragments of a quiet kid that had graduated from his class early.) "I am a senior interrogator, and this junior interrogator here is Yamanaka Inoichi." The blond waved with a wide smile. Obito wondered why, when there was no obvious result from such an action. (Vaguely, he remembered smiling the brightest every second of the day, but that was a time long past.) "The interrogation will now proceed." Morino looked to Yamanaka in a gesture that meant the junior was probably going to be leading.

"Your name?" Yamanaka asked Obito, a board in hand to record everything. He did not want to answer, to give up something so recently returned, but neither did he wish to face certain torture. He answered.

"Uchiha Obito."

The interrogators did not look surprised; they had been expecting that. They did not believe it. "Date of birth?" Yamanaka continued.

"December 24th."

Again, there was no surprise. Why impersonate someone if you did not know the barest details about them? Obito's face burned in something that could have been anger but felt like more — or he thought it did. The larger half of his face was numb, much as always. Yamanaka continued. "Parents?"

This time, Obito did have trouble with the questioning. His parents . . . He had parents, he had to, but . . . For some reason, he had no recollection of any such figures in his life. Parents . . . His mind burned as the Master suddenly gripped it tightly. Obito's mouth moved on the Master's volition, forming words he had not even thought. "My parents were Risa and Itaku Uchiha." Terror drenched his heart. Obito did not care so much for the names he had suddenly been given, nor the knowledge that he had parents; his only care was for the Master who had decided to control him once more. Even though he had been captured and should be useless to the Master, still his mind was not his own. And Obito despaired that it never would be.

Yamanaka did not appear to notice any change, simply marked his answer. His next question hit Obito a little harder, however. It burned his chest and caused him to buck against the Master's control with all his might only to find his mind crushed in a merciless hold. "Detail the last five years of your life."

Stinging disappointment and sharp jealousy; the urgent need to improve, to be better; kind words and soft hands; anger, indignant protestation; hopeful belief, burgeoning self-esteem; pain, disbelief; a change of heart, the approach of death; healing hands, fragile recovery; lost friends, lost hope; taken freedom, burning mind; _please stop the pain_. All of these things ran through Obito's mind, coupled with flashing images and scenes, but none spilled from his lips like they wanted to, like Yamanaka requested them to. The Master loomed large and selected a careful story that was full of deceit and half-truths. His control was full for the moment, but Obito shuddered to think of what the Master would order if it waned (as it sometimes did). The Master could not force his steps to lead him back to the base, after all, not when he had been captured. His mouth opened in the Master's will, and out came such a lie that Obito knew he would never be able to keep it in this place of familiar, hated faces. "I do not remember them."

At this the blonde interrogator displayed obvious disbelief. "Amnesia?" he asked sarcastically. Obito wanted to scream at him to shut up, to leave him alone or make the Master go away. He was so tired of this control, this constant fury and pain. _Why wouldn't they let him die?_ But Yamanaka did not respond to these thoughts; he could not even hear them when Obito's mouth obeyed another's will. "Well," the young man turned to Morino, "it seems I have no further answerable questions. May we begin, Sensei?"

That wording built fear inside Obito, a new terror that had him bucking desperately against the Master's control. He was getting somewhere this time, he could tell; the Master's grip was loosening. When Yamanaka grabbed his chin to force him to look into the other man's eyes, it was Obito that jerked away. His body started bucking against its restraints in tandem with his mind, and Obito knew he had almost managed it. The terror was a fuel unlike any before and the Master could not simply force him into a cage until he had regained control. But even this was not enough to completely slip out of the Master's iron grasp. His body jerked only slightly; his open mouth could not form intelligible words. He could not stop the Yamanaka nor delay him.

" **Dokushinjutsu!** " ( _Mind Reading Technique_ )

Everything snapped apart as he fell into blackness.

* * *

 **Sorry for the wait! I do like this story (even though I initially planned it as a one shot), so I will continue with. I've just been busy and unmotivated. I recently gained some inspiration, however, so we'll see how it goes. I'll try not to leave off with any cliffhangers, in any case, which is part of why I waited to post this chapter. I wanted to have another ready! (And now I do. Expect it sometime over the weekend.)**


	4. Chapter 4

" **Dokushinjutsu!** " ( _Mind Reading Technique_ )

Obito felt as if everything inside of him had snapped; it was like a rubber band had been pulling and pulling and in that one moment where Yamanaka performed his _jutsu_ , it was let go, snapping against Obito with such force that it tore apart. Everything snapped apart, and then he fell into blackness.

It was not the same void as unconsciousness, but Obito could make out nothing all the same. He could feel foreign presences, but without his vision, he was unable to confirm who they were. He hypothesized that the Master and Yamanaka were there, but Obito was not familiar enough with this side of mind _j_ _utsu_ s to know anything concrete. All the same, his mind, his body, trembled with anger and fear and the desperate urge to _escape_. He was so angry, so frustrated with these people who would not even allow him death; yet he was terrified of what they would do to him, that the Master would get him back in some way. He shook with the tremendous force of his emotions, and with him the very ground shook as well. Hate filled his core, a terrible, ugly hate that the Master had bred within him from the moment of his capture.

A sharp command forced him to freeze. Contrary to Obito's immediate assumption, he found that it was Yamanaka who had ordered him within his own mind when abruptly he could see through the blackness. The Master's presence suddenly seemed fainter, like the Master was trying to hide himself now that he could be seen. His mind, practically its own being now, raged and snarled distantly. Obito had almost succeeded in booting out the Master. He knew he could do it.

But more immediately at hand was Yamanaka.

The blond-haired man's voice sifted through Obito's being, a single clear-cut order to _listen_ and  obey. Obito felt his own emotions and control come back to him, everything belonging strictly to him even with the Master still faintly there; but Yamanaka had also put some sort of lock on them. Standing there, confident in someone else's mind, the man could be at ease because he knew that Obito could do nothing to harm him. It was like coming home to find that some of the doors were locked and the keys were missing.

"What are you doing?" Obito growled. He felt at once whole—as if he had not recently been pierced through the chest—and fragmented. A bloody pile of shattered glass left behind after the culprit retreated.

The interrogator did not answer. He was not even looking at Obito's avatar any longer, instead turning to peer in the direction the Master had faded to.

Anger swelled within Obito, but he had no outlet. He had no purpose. Freedom was such a vague wish, goal, dream. He had no idea how to pursue it in any way other than death—and that woman had taken that option from him, at least for the immediate future.

Yamanaka faced him again, as if sensing the direction of his thoughts. "Who lies in your mind?" he questioned mildly. Obito found that even if he had wished to avoid answering, he was compelled to tell the fullest truth he could manage.

"Master." The word sounded broken, more so than if he had been silent for years. Obito looked down at himself and realized that he did not just feel bloody and bruised; his mental avatar, the truest reflection of his self, was covered in wounds. He could feel the bitter blood leaking from his mouth. "The one who holds my freedom."

The other's eyes widened, surprised and shocked and disbelieving all at once. "Who is he?"

And suddenly the Master was looming forward once more, his sheer presence halting the words before they could escape Obito's lips. Yamanaka gasped and pulled back instinctively, taking a half step out of Obito's mind. Red eyes glinted and he could only see and feel pain—and this was Yamanaka's fault! Obito had almost succeeded in booting the Master out! Again and again these familiar and completely unknown ninja foiled his every effort to become free.

The Master shoved Yamanaka out with a single touch, leaving Obito trapped in his own mind with a very malicious presence.

His eyes opened and he felt once more attached to his body, but it was the Master who had control. It had not waned. It had grown stronger in his anger, and Obito was left to suffer **because of Yamanaka**. He wanted to tear him apart, to render him helpless and make him _understand_ what he had done. Because Obito could not even look where he wanted to. He could only gaze where Yamanaka had fallen and the dark-haired one was checking him over. He could not blink. He could only wait as the Master made him wait for the two others in the room to make a move.

Morino glared up at Obito. He stepped forward menacingly, hands twitching to begin some manner of _jutsu_ —

"Sensei, wait," Yamanaka muttered. "I'm fine. He isn't though. There's someone else in his head."

The Master stilled, presence focusing in on Morino's response. He was the man in charge here.

"Who?"

"I don't know. He would not say. But it was someone _very_ powerful." The blond's tone was full of—worry?

"He cannot be trusted, then. Consider the preliminary investigation complete. We will return to the Yondaime with this news and the wait for further orders, understood?" Morino shot a fierce glare at Obito. "You're not going anywhere."

The Master stayed silent, allowing the men to leave though he did keep Obito's gaze on them. But no matter how Obito squirmed and bucked, he did not loosen his control again. Obito had broken free almost twice now. If the Master had his say (and he inevitably would), he would never have that chance again.

( _It was the pain of being crushed under a rock, never again able to breathe._ )

* * *

 **Hello again~ Sorry for the short length :( I usually actually write pretty lengthy chapters, but the ones for this story just seem to want to end early. It feels natural to me. Well, in any case, I am trying to make future chapters longer. (We'll see how it goes.)**

 **Thanks a bunch to everyone who commented, I really appreciate it! I love this story, but it's always nice to see other people like it too. (Makes me all warm and cuddly inside) I should be back with another update this time next week.**


	5. Chapter 5

The interrogators did not return. Neither did the nurse. In fact, for the space of a week, no one at all entered that hospital room. They simply left him in the agonizing silence, slowly starving and becoming dehydrated, feeling his very life drain out of him. The Master sat with him through it all, forcing Obito to stillness when all he wanted was to tear at himself, anything to make it all stop. By the third day, he could not help but to think that they had left time to finish the job. That he would die in that room, free at last.

By the fifth, he was not sure he cared what happened either way. As long as whatever happened would stop the pain.

In the end, Obito was not entirely sure what had been planned for him. Perhaps the Yondaime ( _yellow hair, bright smile_ ) was taking his time in the hopes that Obito would simply die of neglect, taking care of the problem. It was really only by the grace of his remaining chakra and the changes to his body the Master had made that he survived to see the red headed woman burst in on the seventh day. Then again, maybe there were other circumstances surrounding his complete solitary confinement. Likely he would never know of their intentions, but Obito _did_ survive. He could hardly summon the energy to sit (though the Master sat his body up anyway) when the woman came and gave him drink, but he was alive.

When the Master raised his hand to cup the woman's cheek, he wished he wasn't.

«•»

Kushina sometimes hated that her husband was Hokage, she thought as she rushed to find Obito. He had been left alone for a week without food or water in an effort to force out the intruder to his mind, from what she understood. A week was enough to kill a civilian, and Obito practically was one with his injuries.

Someone meant to kill him.

She ran across another hall, straining to keep her bearings while upside down. She knew Obito had been moved to the hospital, and knowing that allowed her to sniff out his chakra (one of the more useful abilities the Kyūbi provided her), but the halls of the hospital were winding enough that she could confuse herself if she didn't pay attention—not to mention the shinobi currently on her tail.

A willowy man shot around the corner after her, running along the ground as opposed to the ceiling she had taken to. He flared his chakra briefly and threw a handful of kunai, soft bursts of fire licking her heels. "Nice to see you're at least trying not to blow up the hospital," Kushina jabbed. The man simply ignored her and flicked out another set of kunai, these ones accompanied by ninja wire.

She jumped to the wall to avoid them, twisting in midair to form a few quick seals. " **Doton: Doryūheki."** _(Earth Release: Earth-Style Wall)_ The wall rose up from the ground, blocking the kunai and the ninja with a clatter as Kushina shot into a room and out the already open window. Her carefully managed chakra stuck her feet to the hospital's wall as she ran, counting the windows she passed. _One, two… five!_ In a maneuver too fast for unenhanced eyes to see, the jinchuriki slipped the window open with a flick and slid inside. Just as quickly, she closed the window and set a barrier around the room with a neatly drawn seal. The solid _thunk_ of a body crashing against it a moment later assured her that it had worked.

Kushina turned her attention to the room, to the man reminiscent of a little boy she had once known. He was chained to the bed, but his arms looked so thin that the chains were redundant. How was he so thin? It had only been a week and Obito looked like he had been near starved for a month. Worked up to a rage, she ripped the bonds away from the bed and cracked them off of his arms. The nature of them held her answer: _Hasui_ metal, formed of an alloy specifically purposed to drain chakra. _Minato_ , Kushina thought darkly (she remembered the times she had been restrained by this metal, the horrible feeling of **giving** and _**giving**_ until you had no more to give, like having your soul sucked out), _what have you done?_

Obito slowly pushed himself up in the bed, despite his lack of strength. His hollowed cheeks dented in a smile that was more like a grimace as Kushina rushed over to him, ignoring the urge to flutter about in worry as she brought the water canteen at her waist to his lips. He took long sips, surprisingly able to hold his own urges in check, and lifted a somehow steady hand to cup her cheek. The kunoichi leaned into it, examining Obito's face sadly, with its terrible scarring and horrifying gauntness. He held her gaze steady even as he drank, a slight flicker of red spinning and holding her captivated. He possessed such a beautiful eye, glittering with some dark power, emitting a bare amount of chakra despite how little he should have left—

Kushina ripped herself away, the water spilling from her canteen. Obito—no, she couldn't rightly call him Obito—pulled back in his bed and studied her with a smirk curling at his lips. Kushina flared her chakra, seeking out the energy she knew was an impostor, and found it covering him. It seemed to fill his every pore, controlling his every motion. Her husband had been right, much as it pained her to admit it: this was an enemy of Konoha.

The shinobi pursuing her dissolved her barrier at that moment, charging in between herself and the creature possessing Obito, weapons poised to be thrown in her defense. Reluctantly, Kushina acknowledged that the man had not been sent to keep her from Obito but to protect her from him. (Not that she needed physical protection, but if she had been caught in that eye… She would not have been able to escape alone.)

Realizing that there was no immediate threat (he had probably been worried because of the chakra flares typical of a fight), her pursuer zeroed in on the lack of chains holding Obito down. He was quick to remedy that, pulling some from a scroll and clamping them on Obito's pliant wrists. Finished, the ninja turned to Kushina, a senbon quirked in his mouth.

"Mrs. Hokage," he said in a mocking tone of respect, adding a mockery of a bow to go with. Distracted from the severity of the situation for a moment, Kushina felt her cheeks flame in anger.

"What is it with brats today?!" she yelled, hair flying out. "So disrespectful!" The man dodged a swat, moving from in front of Obito and thus bringing her attention back to the matter at hand. She deflated a little. "I'm going to talk to Minato," she told the shinobi, a note of finality in her voice. It should have been the first thing she did, but her husband had been acting evasive and so she had chosen to find Obito herself. Well, Minato would not be getting away from Kushina now.

* * *

 **And break! So, not so much Obito in this one, and next chapter will similarly contain little of his POV, but things are progressing! Sort of. I have no idea where I'm going with this. If anyone feels inspired, shoot me a PM or something. Anyways, sorry for being a little late, yesterday turned into a crappy day of walking around a city in 4 inch heels because of bad planning by the group I was with, all the while possessing a fever. Predictably, I slept most of today. However, I still posted! I will certainly try not to have another year of absence, or at least tell you ahead of time that I might be a while. Luckily, summer is coming up, so I'll have some extra time to get this planned out and everything. Maybe I'll even work on that other thing I started posting!**

 **Well, sorry for rambling. Anyway, prepare for some Minato and adorable baby Naruto next time!**


	6. Chapter 6

Minato gazed softly at the babe in his arms, so small and fragile. A single act of negligence could steal its life. He combed a hand through the soft blond tufts of hair so similar to his own, smiling fondly. He was still somewhat in awe of the child, feeling strangely disconnected whenever he considered that this was his child, his baby boy. In all honesty, Minato had not expected to live through his son's birth. He had been willing—and nearly had—to give up his life for his wife, for his unborn son. If Obito had not halted his attack and given Kushina a chance to take him out, Minato was sure that he would not have been able to subdue the Kyuubi without the loss of his life.

The thought tugged at him painfully. He knew it was true. For his village, for his family, he would have given anything. If he had not been able to give the Kyuubi his full attention, with Kushina at his side—he thought of the flutter of a black butterfly, the words that would summon the death god to grant one wish in return for his death. And though it would have saved them all, it would have bereaved them greatly as well. (Kakashi, with mismatched eyes and a world of sadness and guilt; Genma, young, doing his best, but everlastingly not enough; Naruto, just born and already threatened with the loss of both parents…)

Minato touched his forehead to the babe's, breathing a long sigh. Naruto turned his head up, bumping his nose against Minato, and reached to grab his father's hair with curling fingers. The Hokage smiled again. _He was so lucky._

The door to his office crashed open. Minato jerked upright, trying to look like he had been doing the mounds of paperwork sitting on his desk, but with a babe in his arms that was a bit hard to accomplish. (He didn't want to accidentally hurt the child!) Unable to do that, he attempted to lean back casually in his seat; of course, the person who had entered saw right past that, though she did not remark on it.

"Kushina!" he greeted, voice high-pitched. His red-haired wife stalked to his desk. Behind her, Genma leaned out and waved with a cheerful grin and a whispered "Good luck, boss!", then disappeared with a _poof_ of smoke and leaves. Then his wife was filling his vision again. "Honey?" his voice wavered.

"Give me him," she demanded, holding her arms out for Naruto. "That way I won't accidentally kill you." Minato hurriedly acquiesced.

Kushina took Naruto carefully, cradling him against her chest. He made a little happy noise, nuzzling her and summoning smiles from both parents. What a cute son they had, they thought together. Then Kushina remembered why she had come.

"Tell me about Obito. Everything you know."

Minato flinched. He slumped back into his chair, rubbing his temples. Obito… Uchiha Obito was forever imprinted in his mind as the cheerful student he had been, always late and always with some excuse, always trying but often failing… He had been the student most like himself, and Minato thought he had loved him almost as a son. Then the cave in had happened, Kakashi's guilt, Rin's grieving—it had been worse than any other loss in that war. Kakashi blamed himself, but Minato knew who had been truly at fault. He was the one who had sent them on that mission. He was the one who had sent Obito to his death, doomed to fail on a team that would not support him. And now he was back.

Finding Obito lying in that cave after Minato sealed the Kyuubi in his wife once more, Minato had felt the old wound reopen. He had of course rushed to have some moderate level of healing done, anything to save him, to save that little boy who always had a smile on his face. Then his senses had come back to him, and Minato had remembered his position, his responsibility. He was the Hokage, the leader of Konoha, and this man was not the little boy he remembered. He was a man who had endangered the entire village, who had tried to kill Minato's son. Minato directed that there be minimal healing done to ensure the man's survival and placed him in a cell.

When Kushina had found out, she had been furious, of course. As soon as she was able she escaped her hospital room and demanded that it be given to Obito—never mind her anger when she found the man dying on his cell's floor. Having wanted to arrange that himself, Minato easily gave in. But once Obito woke, he sent in two of his best interrogators; he had not forgotten what he had done. When they came back reporting a powerful presence in the Uchiha's mind, he had known that he could no longer allow himself to think of his student. This was not his student, even if his student was somewhere in the man's mind. He could not allow himself to be compassionate or sympathetic. He had the village to think of.

So Minato left his former student to weaken, _hasui_ chains draining his energy, and he had done his best to keep his wife from him. It would hurt her to see it, and he needed to focus on the things he could fix: the structural damages from the Kyuubi's rampage. (But it _burned_ him inside, to be able to do _nothing_.)

"We don't know." His words were simple and quiet. "Someone is controlling him, but we don't know who. We don't know how, only that it is through his mind and that the control is so powerful the other's chakra has saturated him. We don't know anything else."

Naruto gurgled, drawing Kushina from her glare. She sighed and fiddled with their son's hands. "He's a _Sharingan_ user."

Minato looked at her oddly. "I know that, dear." He grimaced, feeling a pang in his chest. "He managed it in that last mission."

The jinchuriki shook her head. "No, I mean whoever is controlling him. Or at the very least, he has a thorough knowledge of it. When I went to him just now, he tried to lay a _genjutsu_ on me. And thinking back on it, that's probably how he controlled the Kyuubi—he's very powerful with it."

The door to his office opened again, quietly this time, but it almost would have been better if it had been slammed against the wall as Kushina had done. In limped Kakashi, eyes focused almost unseeingly on Minato. Blood had soaked through a wrapping of bandages on his leg and one arm was curled awkwardly against his chest; he appeared to have come straight back from his mission, skipping over the hospital. His silver hair was matted with dirt, his eyes were glazed over—and he was completely focused on his sensei.

"Is it true?" he was asking softly, voice wavering. Minato had never heard his voice shake like that before. "Is it true? Is Obito—" the teenager's (and oh how he could see his student's age here and now) voice broke. "Is Obito alive?"

Minato glanced at Kushina, seeking strength. It was one thing to argue against her, to explain why they could not let Obito free—it would be an entire other to tell Kakashi. Of all the people who could have found out, he was the one Minato wanted to keep in the dark. He had sent his student on a mission to hide it from him, hoping to have things sorted out by the time he came back. But of course Kakashi would make it back two weeks early; Minato should have known. He was the only thing Kakashi had left, and he had nearly died. And now he had to tell the boy that Obito—one of the biggest sources of his constant guilt and self-hatred—was not only alive, but was still being held captive to some unknown force.

(Before he had even managed to get half way through his explanation, Kakashi bolted.)

«•»

Obito curled up in his mind, attempting with less fervor each time to close his senses to the world. The Master could control him and kill these people that he simultaneously hated and loved, but he did not have to watch. He did not _want_ to watch, despite that side of himself that hated the redhead and blond so fiercely. He just wanted to die in peace—no need to hurt anyone.

An itch tickled the edge of his wound, causing him to try and reach for it, to ease the discomfort. Even this, the Master would not allow. He strained against the control, but it was complete. The waning periods the Master usually went through, having used up most of his abundant chakra, had seemed to disappear; his grip was ironclad. And he would not give in even to a simple itch. No matter how Obito bucked and roared, he was not to be let go.

His remaining energy spent, he curled up in his mind again, something like tears stinging at his eyes. He did not want to admit it to himself, but part of the reason he was trying so hard was because of the red-haired woman. She had come to him furious with his state, possessing a quiet anger as she ripped the bonds that had been draining his life force away. (And what a glorious feeling! As if he could finally breathe after months of being crushed by a rock—a sensation he had literal experience with.) But the Master had been the one in control of his body. He had been the one to reach out and hold her in such a tender manner—he had been the one to activate Obito's _Sharingan_. The woman had thankfully jumped away, but Obito would never forget the intent behind that swirling _tomoe_. ( _ **He had been going to burn her alive with the fire that never ended.**_ )

He didn't even notice when the other came in and gave him a new pair of chains.

Obito huddled against himself tightly, trying to ignore the memory sealed on his lids. He was so tired… Tired of trying, tired of failing… He just wanted it to end. One way, or another.

The door to his room crashed open, rebounding solidly against the wall, but everything seemed to still when he saw him. Under the frame, taller than he had last seen him but also somehow smaller, stood a silver-haired shinobi. There was a mask on his face and one eye was red with a spinning _tomoe_ , but Obito would never forget that figure.

 _Kakashi_.

* * *

 **Tada! Oh, I enjoyed writing that. Okay, so, if anyone notices plotholes or anything, say something? If you're confused, feel free to question me because I tend to forget that my readers don't know all the background details of my plans. And, I really don't have a definite storyline for this, I'm literally making it up as I go, so I'm liable to create massive holes one way or another. But nice comments are always good, too! Just, constructive criticism is really welcome.**


	7. Chapter 7

_Kakashi_.

All else cleared from his mind. His heart fluttered to a halt.

( _glimpses of crashing rocks,_ _ **painandsufferingandwecouldhavebeenfriends**_ _, a lovely girl and the boy so admired and hated,_ _ **the burning in his eyes when he killed her**_ _)_

The air stilled. Silently, he stared, captivated. He did not notice as the presence of the Master faded, tinged with a twisted curiosity. All he saw was _him_.

 _Kakashi_.

From one second to another Obito had jerked away from the bed, hands grasping for his old teammate's throat. Suddenly, all of his considerable strength was at his command once more—and he could only think of one way to use it. What did freedom mattered in the face of the man _**who had killed**_ _ **her**_ _ **?**_

The chains constraining his wrists creaked ominously, but Kakashi remained frozen in place, staring in disbelieving horror. A growl ripped from Obito's throat as he fought to break the chains, to kill _kill_ _ **kill him**_. He was not seeing the bloodied man before him but the teenager who had formed lightning around his arm— _the chirping of a thousand birds_ —and pierced through her chest. The _hasui_ chains cracked.

Buzzing filled Obito's ears, drowning everything else out. _Kakashi_. _Kakashi_ _ **kakashi**_ _ **kakashi**_. He wanted to tear his heart out, to make him pay for what he had done. ( _Lies, betrayed, youpromisedtoprotecther_ ) He would rip that condescending glare to shreds, he would show him what _he_ had learned!

The chains broke.

His rage was loosed, and it was an anger all of his own. He was not present enough within himself to know that the Master was no longer controlling him. How could he care? The only thing he could see was that silver-haired boy's arm piercing through his only love's chest. Of all his muddled memories, this he had never forgotten. _This_ , he never would. An Uchiha never forgot the wrong done to him—the spinning tomoes in his eyes would not allow it. The curse and blessing of the Sharingan.

The breaking of the _hasui_ chains in concert with the Master's release of his body sent energy and strength crashing throughout his body. His skin hugged tightly against his bones, giving him an emaciated appearance, but it was only a front. The Master had held his chakra back from the moment he took control, leaving Obito to appear much weaker than he was. The detriment was to his musculature only, and that could be easily enhanced with chakra. The Master had wanted them to underestimate him, to leave his bonds light so escape was always an option. Obito hadn't known, hadn't been able to feel his own energy source until everything had been thrown back to him—and he did not care. The only thing that mattered was his vengeance.

Kakashi was ill-prepared to defend himself. A viciously contemptuous grin crossed Obito's face, turning quickly to a snarl as his hands finally clawed his old teammate's neck. Eye spinning in a rapid swirl of red and black, he prepared the worst attack he could deliver and poured in all the _rageangerpain_ that had piled up.

" **Tsukuyomi."**

«•»

Minato's legendary speed allowed him to arrive just in time to hear that word: _Tsukuyomi_. The dreaded name of the moon god that called upon a genjutsu so intense it could kill in the matter of a second, and all that was required was eye contact. And once called upon, it could not be stopped. By virtue of being a technique that only took seconds to do the job, the presence of a companion would not help. Minato was arguably the fastest man in the Elemental Nations—and even he could not stop Tsukuyomi before its completion. He could only run to catch Kakashi when he fell.

«•»

Obito knew the time was only a few short seconds, but he also experienced that sense of lengthened time he inflicted on his old teammate. In that brief instant he had created a separate world, made just for the Kakashi. The moon was a haunting red ( _blood red, colored by the life he had taken_ ), dark trees swayed menacingly over them, and a girl with brown hair and soft eyes stood gazing up.

Kakashi staggered in his illusion, collapsed to his knees. " _Rin_ ," he whispered.

The girl turned to him, a gentle smile on her face ( _she had always been gentle, even when she was punishing him for being late_ ). "Hello, Kakashi." Obito watched expectantly, waiting, waiting for the moment the true purpose of his illusion would unfold. "Come to kill me again?"

Kakashi shook his head almost involuntarily, lips trembling through his mask in a way Obito had never seen happen. "No," he whispered helplessly. "No!" But his legs carried him against his will—that was the true nightmare of the genjutsu. _He had no power over himself_. A spark flashed at his fingertips and suddenly the chirping of a thousand birds could be heard echoing through the night. Obito forced himself to watch as the illusion completed its first bout; Kakashi flickered forward and impaled their beloved teammate in a splatter of gore.

There was only time enough for Kakashi to cry out in grief and loss before the illusion reset, the silver-haired nin standing to one side as Rin said, "Hello, Kakashi. Come to kill me again?" It played through the same, regardless of the teen's screaming protests. Again and again, even past the point Obito had to close his eyes because as much as it hurt Kakashi it was _killing him_. In a way, the illusion was a punishment to himself just as much to the prodigy. ( _He loved her so much why did she have to_ _ **die**_ ) He knew the seventy-two hours were really only three seconds, but he felt every minute of the torture Kakashi experienced.

When it ended, they both fell to the ground, staring numbly, sightlessly. The difference was ( _and always had been_ ) that Kakashi had someone to catch him. Obito looked emptily up at his once-teacher—

(—and cried for the things he had lost.)

* * *

Far away, resting within a tree, Uchiha Madara looked upon his prodigy. Oh, he knew the boy's hate for him, his desperate clawing for freedom always a background thought in their relationship, but he was as close to a child as the wizened ninja could have. He had picked up the Uchiha techniques phenomenally with the correct motivation, and Madara was proud. Even more proud to watch his child use one such technique on the man he had so foolishly gifted an eye.

He sighed with a soft smile. He really did love Obito, his son born from the dust. The boy was still acting strangely reticent, even after he had clearly demonstrated the flaws of the current state of the world by arranging for him to see that girl killed, but he knew he would come around. Spending time with her killer would help. Perhaps—

"Hmm," Madara pondered. Perhaps he should let the boy handle his entire entrapment in Konoha by himself. He was reluctant to leave the child alone, much like a father with a child in the habit of getting into dangerous trouble, but in this case, it could be good for the kid. Obito was getting older, and so was Madara. It would be immensely helpful to finally have his child come to him willingly, to stop with his purposeful hindering of the Plan. Zetsu could even keep an eye on him, allowing Madara time to settle in to the tree fully. He could rest, conserve his energy, all while the boy progressed in his journey of life.

He smiled. Yes, that did sound nice.

* * *

 **Hey! Sorry to be late. This past weekend was unbelievably busy what with a huge rainstorm causing a tree to crash down on my family's chicken coup and work and then me getting my wisdom teeth out—woo, it was a lot! In any case, here you go, and I should be updating as regular this weekend. Unless I die. Hmm. I need a backup plan for that scenario.**

 **(Kidding! I totally won't die. Although the backup plan deserves some thought.)**


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